


A (New) Stilinski Christmas Tradition

by aishitaeru



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bonding, Christmas, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Just Derek Hale the red-nosed werewolf, M/M, Memories, Mistletoe, Saint Hale has a nice ring to it., The Hale Family, The Hale Fire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-16
Updated: 2012-12-16
Packaged: 2017-11-21 06:02:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/594269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aishitaeru/pseuds/aishitaeru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles has been staring at the same Christmas ornament for the past thirty minutes, unable to tear his gaze away even as his chest threatens to implode from the build up of emotions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A (New) Stilinski Christmas Tradition

Stiles has been staring at the same Christmas ornament for the past thirty minutes, unable to tear his gaze away even as his chest threatens to implode from the build up of emotions.

It had started a few weeks ago, when he and his father had pulled the tree out from the attic and began decorating. He'd forgotten--which in itself was scary, realizing his memory was fading--about the tiny ornaments in the bottom of the box. A small, hand decorated, red ball with a sloppy, glittery S that he'd made in elementary school. He'd almost drawn a G with the glue, but his nickname always sounded better to Stiles than Genim. His mother's smile was huge when he'd presented it to her after school, and she’d gripped his little hand gently, walking with him into the living room and picking the perfect place for the tiny ornament right in the front where everyone could see. 

After seeing such happiness from his mother, it had become a tradition of sorts for him to make little Christmas decorations for her, and Stiles had forgotten all about them. He'd stared into the box for a long time, reliving each gift and each smile, the placement of the little handmade crafts on the tree. 

Of course the happy memories brought up the sad ones. The winter when they'd discovered the cancer, caught just before stage four. That Christmas had been quiet and though the smiles were still present they were weak and it was only Stiles decorating the tree that year, his father at work while his mother lied in bed, resting even though she hadn't come out all day. 

Stiles almost broke right then and there, but his father's voice cut him out of his memories and he jerked, eyes wide and his dad hesitated, noticing the box and then quickly pointing to the bundle of Christmas lights on the floor. Neither of them talked while they strung the lights, but once the multi-colored bulbs were flickering in their programmed setting both of them stood back, examining their work and silently agreeing not to put all the ornaments up this year. It was painful for the both of them and despite having resolutely decorated the tree each year in the same manner, somehow Stiles knew this year felt different. Forgetting had hit him hard and he had a hunch his father felt similar, though Stiles was certain it wasn't the same at all. It may have been his mother, but his dad had known her longer, loved her in a way Stiles could never understand because the situations weren't alike. Stiles’ memories would fade eventually, in the way all memories did once the person had moved on, until one day they'd completely evaporate, but Stiles' dad would have them haunting him for the rest of his life.

Soon after his father had gone to bed that night, Stiles had snuck downstairs and pulled out one ornament from the box, the little red ball with the silver S, and placed it on the tree, surrounded by the average, nondescript ornaments that the Stilinski family had collected over the years, circling the green Christmas tree. The miniature S stood out against the rest, the colorful lights making the glitter shine and somehow his heart felt lighter, like his mother would know what he did and was smiling again. 

On Christmas Eve Stiles sat in his father's arm chair, staring at the Christmas tree while Elf played on the TV. The sounds were quiet, just background noise, as Stiles' eyes stayed locked on the little S. His father would be out until 4am, until Christmas morning, technically, and usually Stiles would be spending the night with Scott, just to have some company. With Ms. McCall working at the hospital and his dad as the Sheriff he and Scott naturally came together for the holidays, keeping each other from being lonely on Christmas. This year Stiles was alone. Scott's mom had been given the week off for once and Allison was to visit in the morning to exchange gifts, so it was silently agreed upon that Stiles would be fending for himself this X-mas.

It wasn't so bad. Sure, he'd been a bit hurt when he first realized that Scott had other plans, but with the constant stream of changes this year, he wasn't really surprised. He understood that having a girlfriend made friendships different and he was used to Scott's puppy dog love by now, but it didn't really stop the ache in his chest. He wouldn't have someone to snuggle with on Christmas morning, or a mom to share the presents with. 

Loneliness and mourning seemed to be a theme this Christmas as Stiles sung along quietly with Will Farrell and Zooey Deschanel. 

_My mother will start to worry_  
 _My father will be pacing the floor_  
 _So really I'd better scurry_  
 _Well Maybe just a half a drink more_  
 _The neighbors might think - Baby, it's bad out there_  
 _Say, what's in this drink - No cabs to be had out there_  
 _I wish I knew how - Your eyes are like starlight now_  
 _To break this spell - I'll take your hat, your hair looks swell_  
 _I ought to say no, no, no, sir - Mind if I move a little closer_  
 _At least I'm gonna say that I tried - What's the sense in hurting my pride_  
 _I really can't stay - Baby don't hold out_

"Ahh, but it's cold outside..."

Stiles jumped, twisting his body around at the sound of another voice apart from his. He may have yelped, but it was soon forgotten as he took in the figure standing at the living room doorway. Derek's hands were stuffed into his leather jacket, an easy look in his eyes as he nodded his head slightly in greeting.

"Jeez, give me a heart attack why don't you? Normal people use the front door, but I bet you used the window didn't you?"

"You weren't in your room so I came down."

"Right. Well here I am, sitting in my living room watching Elf, like any other teenager on Christmas. For a second there I thought Santa Claus was real and decided to visit early this year. Thanks for ruining my dreams." 

"I didn't know you still believed." His voice was light, obviously teasing, which was a bit odd, because Stiles was used to the snarky, sarcastic teasing as opposed to the innocent sort. 

"I don't, but still. You ruined any chance. Just Derek Hale, the red-nosed werewolf."

"Isn't it past your bedtime? You should be in bed before Santa really arrives." Even as he said this, he stepped forward, walking into the living room and falling onto the couch, making himself completely at home in the Stilinski house. It felt strange, because this conversation had yet to stray anywhere towards threats and somehow managed to give the impression that the two were friends, good friends. 

Maybe they were, on a strange level, but this was new and Stiles wasn't sure if he was supposed to break this line of conversation or not. "I don't have a bedtime, thanks. Santa can skip our house this year, I'm too comfortable." And he was, lying back in his dad's fluffy chair—now he knew why the older man often fell asleep in it—with a soft blanket thrown over his form, completely covering his body and encasing him in warmth. His comfy position had been thrown a little when Derek had arrived, but he'd quickly sunk back into his position after realizing there was no real danger. 

Only Stiles would consider a werewolf "no real danger."

They both sit in silence for a while, eyes on the TV as Will Ferrell un-beards the fake Santa and the movie rolls on, the time passing slowly but easily, and soon Stiles forgets the unease of Derek's presence, everything becoming comfortable and easy, as though he was spending the time with Scott; except, if this was Scott there was no way Stiles could enjoy the movie in silence. 

When the credits roll Stiles feels oddly disappointed, knowing that there's no need for the comfortable silence anymore. He sits up, the recliner sliding forward to its original position as Stiles stretches his legs out in front of him, grunting quietly because he hasn't moved in a while. Derek's looking at him, unabashedly and as though he had been for a while. Stiles flushes and he hopes the room is too dark for Derek to notice. The lights from the tree are flickering across Derek's face, shades of red, orange, green, blue, and yellow dancing across his hazel eyes and Stiles has to look away, because if he didn't he would be hypnotized.

A commercial plays as he cuts back on the cable and he turns down the volume even further, allowing only a slight buzz of noise because he can't stand absolute quiet ever.

"Did something happen...?" he asks, soft but he can tell his voice is a little too high to sound casual.

"What do you mean?"

What do you mean, what I do mean? "The pack? The Argents? Usually you don't stop by unless someone's hurt or there’s danger or you need research...is that it? I can go get my laptop if—"

"Nothing happened, no one's hurt, no danger, and no, I don't need any research."

Stiles' mouth fell shut, his teeth choosing instead to worry at his bottom lip. He raised an eyebrow—actually, both eyebrows, because unlike a certain werewolf he wasn't able to raise them independently—to get his silent question across. What did Derek want then?

The older man huffed softly, seemingly burying himself in the further couch and his leather jacket, his mouth disappearing under his collar. "Just wanted to check up is all."

Stiles' eyebrows furrowed. "What does that mean?"

Derek sighed. "Scott may have mentioned that you guys usually spend Christmas together and then later mentioned that he was spending it with his mom and Allison. I figured I should check on you to make sure you weren't wallowing or anything."

Stiles almost got angry, until he realized that there was no reason to, because Derek was just looking out for him and Stiles had no incentive to be annoyed on Christmas Eve, even at Derek Hale.

He let his shoulders relax, leaning his head against the back of the recliner, his chest turned towards Derek so they could talk more directly. "Thanks, I guess? Dad's at work until four and I'll probably visit Scott later on tomorrow, but tonight it's just me. Or it was, until you showed up."

Derek hummed, his own head leaning back to match Stiles, the lights from the trees catching in his eyes once more, leaving Stiles entrapped in his gaze. "No one should be alone on Christmas."

"Does that go for you, too? What about the pack?"

"They can handle themselves for one night. I wanted some time apart anyway."

His chest fluttered because here was Derek Hale, sitting in his living room on Christmas eve, because aside from the pack there was no one waiting for Santa at the Hale house, no one sleeping in their beds, no dreams of sugar-plums (or whatever werewolves dreamed on Christmas) dancing in their heads, and there were certainly no more cookies nor a chimney for St. Nick.

Sympathy filled Stiles. Even as he sat lonely in his house at least he still had one. He still had his father and his friends, even if they weren't around at this very moment. Derek had no one left, no memories for him to discover later on and mourn over, no Christmas tree or Christmas ornaments, no little glitter D on decorations, no decorations at all.

Obviously their situations differed, in severity and in the way they handled it, but right then they were one in the same because they were lonely and now they sat finding comfort in each other’s company on Christmas eve, trying not to relive old memories that only caused pain. 

Scott could never really know what it felt like to have such memories. His father had been long gone before Scott could ever get to know him, let alone love him. Stiles had lost his mother around the same age Derek had lost his entire family. He loved them, he mourned them, each and every day, even if the past was beginning to blur around the edges. 

Stiles stood, reaching for Derek and capturing his jacket sleeve in his grasp, tugging lightly until Derek got the picture and stood with him. He walked into the kitchen, followed by the older man silently. Cookies were another Stilinski family tradition, one that had begun with his mother and ended with him copying the recipe and attempting to make them taste the same, even though it was impossible. His father had assured him that they were exactly how his mother once made them, but Stiles never really believed it. Simple chocolate chip with a dash of cinnamon and peppermint, the added ingredients being the only thing separating them from normal cookies and making them Christmas cookies. The microwave made them warm and the plate was placed between them both, standing against the kitchen counter, a good two feet of space hanging in the middle.

"Because you are the closet thing to Santa, I guess you can have a cookie or two."

Derek's lip twitched, as if fighting back a smile. "If I'm the closest thing to Santa then there are a few hundred stories and songs that need to be re-written."

"Saint Hale has a nice ring to it."

"Too bad I'm not a saint." He smirked, taking a large bite of the cookie, purposefully flashing his teeth. Stiles rolled his eyes, grinning as he ate his own cookie.

Derek moaned happily, swallowing his bite and nodding to himself. "These are really good."

Stiles smiled, taking pride in the fact that Derek liked them. "Thanks. My mom made them better though."

"They always do; Mom's are like that," he took another bite, “but these are tasty, too." 

"I'll wrap some up for you to take back."

"Thanks."

After giving Derek a small baggie of cookies, which he carefully placed in his jacket pocket, the two of them stood eating the last of those left on the plate. Stiles chanced a glance at the clock, seeing that it was nearing 2am. 

"Damn, it's late already."

Derek's eyes flashed to the clock and he nodded, finishing his cookie and wiping his hands on his jeans. "You should get to bed."

"Thanks, Santa. I'll be sure to start being good next year."

It was obviously time for them to separate, for Derek to go back home (or where ever he's spending his nights now and for Stiles to head upstairs, but he almost wished he didn't have to. He liked the comfortable atmosphere he'd experienced and he couldn't help but wonder if it would disappear once Christmas was over. It was a magical holiday, but magical enough to change their relationship? Friends with Derek Hale, he couldn't imagine. 

"Gonna use the front door this time, or shall I escort you to my window?"

Derek chuckled softly, shaking his head and making towards the door, passing in the living room with Stiles following. It was only polite to see his friend-for-a-night to the door, he guessed. 

Stiles wondered what Derek would do for the rest of the night, if he'd stay up and think about his family, or if he would manage to fall asleep right away. Maybe he'd meet up with the pack and keep his mind occupied. 

At the door they both paused, because Derek had yet to turn the door, and because Stiles couldn't do much from his spot. He looked up, wondering what was stopping the older man, only to follow his gaze up some more, towards the door frame. 

A small bushel of mistletoe hung above their heads, pinned to the ceiling above the door, marking the spot where tradition said two people had to kiss should they walk under the plant at the same time. He hadn't been the one to hang it up, so it had to have been his father.

Stiles' face must have turned ten shades of red and he almost ran upstairs right then with the purpose of pretending this had never happened. But his legs felt like jelly and his mouth watered like it always did when he became nervous. He laughed nervously, running a hand over his short hair awkwardly. "H-hey look at that. Mistletoe. Didn't know that was there, must have been my dad because I forgot we even had that. Should have used my window, huh? Would have been much less awkward and you would have been able to pretend it was a chimney and—"

"Stiles."

"Ah, yeah?"

"Shut up."

Derek's stepped closer, leaving almost no space between them as he bent his head down just slightly. His nose rubbed against Stiles' for a second and his lips brushed the younger boy's cheek, the soft heat of his mouth just barely masking the feel of his stubble rubbing against Stiles' smooth skin. It was innocent and quick, but Stiles' heart pounded anyway.

"Merry Christmas," he murmured, rubbing a hand down Stiles' bare arm before turning and walking out, softly shutting the front door behind him.

Stiles stood frozen in the hallway, the chilly air from outside leaving goosebumps all over his body, but his cheek still felt warm and his hand grazed the spot gently, as though the phantom touch would be erased.

"Merry Christmas, Sourwolf," he whispered, turning and walking upstairs, entering his room and falling into bed, a silly grin on his face.


End file.
